Is there anything I can do for you?
by iseefireandrain
Summary: Liz gets a rather strange and dirty phone-call from Reddington in the middle of the night, where they share a bizarre conversation. The beginnings of phone sex. Sexual themes inside, just a warning.


**I own nothing to do with the Blacklist. This story is rather different from my usual theme, but I wanted to write something a tad more lighthearted and slightly varying on ridiculous. The idea came to me from when Reddington called Liz from the payphone in season 1, "Is there anything I can do for you?" ****I do hope it isn't too out of character from both Red and Liz, but I enjoyed writing it. I do hope you enjoy it in return. If not, let me know anyhow.**

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><p><strong><em>Is there anything I can do for you?<em>**

Liz's phone rings loudly, bringing her out of her deep relaxing sleep. Cursing and searching for it blindly in the dark, she finds it on the bedside dresser and checks the I.D before answering.

It's Reddington. And of _all the times_ he chooses to call her, he has to call her now?

"Hey," she sighs, her voice husky with sleep. "What's up?"

There's a pause, then Red says, "I'm just calling because I was thinking about you and I wanted to ask if there was anything in particular that you needed?" Despite how crappy she feels from being so rudely awoken, she can't help the warming of her bones at the sound of his concerned, deep voice.

"Um, okay." She makes a face, squinting at the harsh red lights illuminating in the dark from her alarm clock near the bed. "At this hour? Red, it's two A.M in the morning?"

This is unusual. This is something new. Red usually never calls her at this hour. She wonders if it's because of something important, or if he's just experiencing difficulty sleeping himself, so he's decided to drag her into it as well.

"Hmmm, I've noticed. Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?" It's like he's hoping she'll say something outrageous, like she needs him to come over to her motel room and rub her back, or something ridiculous like that. Maybe that's what he's searching for? Her to invite him over?

"Honestly?"

"I would expect nothing less than plain honesty from you."

"Sleep, that's what I need. I need sleep." _Hint, hint_. "You woke me."

"Ah. Forgive me for waking you, then." Red hardly sounds apologetic in the slightest, and she catches that in his tone. "Shall I hang up and let you get back to sleep?"

Liz knows it's pointless, asking him to do that; Whenever she is disturbed and woken in the middle of a deep and heavy sleep, she finds it next to impossible to get back to sleep again, for her brain to switch off. So him hanging up now and her trying to return to sleep would be rather pointless, wouldn't it?

"No, it's fine," she says hastily, sitting up against the pillows. She feels all hot and sweaty, so she throws the bed sheets off her bare legs to cool them down. "Don't bother hanging up. You've already woken me, and I can't see myself getting back to sleep anytime soon. Why are you calling me right now?" The whole thing has left her feeling thoroughly confused. She turns the words he used on her back around onto him, "Is there... anything I can do for you? Is that the reason why you called?"

"That's a tricky question, Lizzie. And a dangerous one, at that." She hears the slow intake of breath he takes in, and she knows that, somehow, she has gotten him amused, "When there is _so many_ something's that you could do for me."

She hears a faint rustling noise in the background on his line but she can't be sure what it is.

She combs her fingers through her fringe to brush the strands away out of her eyes, as she thinks his comment through carefully. "What are you doing right now?" she asks suspiciously. "I mean, what's going on? Is Dembe still there with you?"

"He left over two hours ago. I told him to take the night off. I had to... _literally_ haul him out of the room onto his ass just to make him go. The man is magnificently vigilant, perhaps to a fault to the point where he doesn't know when to take the night off and relax."

"Right. And so that's what you're trying to do now? You're trying to relax?"

"In a nutshell, yes."

"And what do you do to relax, Red?"

"I like to sit in an armchair and read."

"Oh, yeah? What book? What book are you reading right now?" She's always pegged Reddington for being the type of man who likes historical books or biographies. The genre of crime especially.

"Just one I picked at random. I won't bother telling you what the title is, but it is rather... fascinating. Not the usual book I go for ordinarily, but we all need to try something new at times, don't we?"

Liz sighs and feels a flame of annoyance flicker through her. "What book are you reading? What's it called? I wanna know."

"How about I read you a paragraph instead, Lizzie? Will that do?"

She doesn't understand why he can't just tell her the title, but she relents with a sigh. "Fine. Read me a paragraph, Red."

She hears Red clear his throat as she stands from the bed, stretching her legs. The room doesn't feel as stuffy as it did when she was under the blankets. "All right, here we go. He held her close in his arms, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body to hers. She felt a marvelous tingle sliver down to her womanhood as he-"

Reddington's reading voice is just as wonderful as his normal, sonorous voice, but all the more compelling and delicious. _Dare she think it_. The man can even read the instructions on how to apply hemorrhoid cream and, still, it'd be divine.

"Wait up," Liz cuts through him in shock, "That's what your reading? You're reading an erotic novel? Seriously?" Red reading an erotic romance novel is the last thing she'd expect of him. She's not so sure whether to believe it or not. She never put him down as the type.

"Yes, I am," Red replies, sounding nothing but sincere. "It's fascinating but it is rather... steamy, wouldn't you think? According to this, the man has given her multiple orgasms in a five minute period. He must be one hell of a performer in the bedroom, wouldn't you think, Lizzie?" She cannot believe this. Reddington, of all people, talking about orgasms._ Multiple_ orgasms, in fact. At two A.M in the morning. "Do you suppose there is truly such a thing as to give a woman multiple orgasms? I'm very curious to hear your take on it."

"You're joking, right?" Liz doesn't know whether to laugh or to take him seriously. All she knows, is that she feels flustered by the topic.

"Hmmm, that's exactly what I thought. It's too good to be true."

_And he's getting her wrong..._ "No, I... I wasn't answering about the, uh, multiple orgasm thing. I mean, you're joking about what you're reading, right? You aren't truly reading erotica, am I right?"

The wicked small chuckle he gives out at her question isn't very reassuring. "Wouldn't you like to know," he whispers wryly. Then she hears him clear his throat once more, and he says, "Not to purposefully sound immoral, but what are you wearing?"

_ So he's definitely not kidding with her, after all..._

It takes her a good moment to get over the shock, and then she feels back to her plain old self again. "Uh-huh, so you weren't kidding with me, after all. What? Has the book affected you _that much_ that you want to know what I'm wearing? Is that it?"

"Not at all. Believe it or not, I am always personally invested in taking notice of what you are wearing, Agent Keen." There's something naughty in his tone, clearly illustrating that the content of the book has gotten him, indeed, feeling a little frisky and horny. But the fact he's acting that way with her, it's... odd to say the least. "For instance; That ruffled cream blouse you wore today, I thought, was exceptionally pretty." It's true; She did wear a cream colored blouse today. Not once did she think he'd take such an interest in what she wore, though. "So which is it tonight? Boyleg or G-string?"

"You are _so not_ asking for me to give you private details on the panties I'm wearing," she whispers in outrage. Okay, so she's mostly pretending to be more offended than she is. Surprisingly, the entire conversation is rather exciting on her. "Like I'm actually gonna tell you which underwear I'm wearing." She's wearing black boylegs, and his first guess was astonishingly accurate, if unnerving. Deciding to play along, she asks, "So what are you wearing, Red?"

"I believe you already know the answer to that. I'm wearing my suit."

"Oh, yeah? Which one? You have so many it's kind of hard to keep up."

"My birthday suit," he says, completely deadpan. "The one you haven't seen yet. I only bring it out every once in a blue moon when a special occasion arises."

She's silent for a very long moment, stunned by how flirtatious he's being with. "Birthday suit? As in-"

"-Naked, yes," he clarifies readily, as if it's nothing to admit that your naked to someone else. "Oh, here's a fabulous idea I think we will both very much enjoy. Why don't you, uh, get out of your bra and your boylegs, and we can both share in the fun of being in our birthday suits together? That sounds like fun, Agent Keen, wouldn't you think?"

Despite herself, she laughs out loud. _God, has he been drinking more than usual tonight? Is he high on some illicit substance possibly? He's not really talking to her while naked, is he? _

"Yeah, yeah, never going to happen, Red," she mutters under her breath. "So what's the special occasion your speaking of?"

"Oh, just the simple joy of waking someone up in the middle of the night and having them suffering along with me," he says mischievously.

"Is that me you're making a reference to?" she asks quietly, despite already knowing the answer. "You can't sleep? What keeps you up at night, Red?"

"You couldn't _even begin_ to_ imagine_ what keeps me up at night, Agent Keen."

"I think I know a thing or two. It's finally catching up with you, isn't it? All the bad deeds you've done, it's finally reached into your conscience and its starting to haunt you, and you can't rest because there's nightmares and it constantly makes you feel guilty. Is that it?"

"My conscience is far from clear, yes. It certainly does tend to keep me up at night, but it isn't the only reason. There are other things that plague my mind nightly, desires you could not even begin to know about. Which brings me back to my previous question and the matter at hand, what are you wearing?"

Typical of Reddington to dodge a serious question and distract her in another way. "Well, I'm absolutely not wearing my birthday suit, if that's what you wanna know."

Red sighs loudly and wistfully on the other line. "Shame." There's a moment of silence on his end, then he says meaningfully, "Now, back onto the very reason I called. Is there anything at all that I can do for you? Are you sure there isn't a single thing that I could do for you?"

"Like what?" she teases. "What could I possibly need that you could give me, Red?"

Some part of her enjoys the fact that he's always there for her, and that he'll always try to do right by her, to make her feel safe and happy. It's nice to have someone waiting on you, and always looking out for you.

"Multiple orgasms perhaps?" He lets it linger in the air for a hopeful moment, and Liz wonders if he's hoping for her to actually say yes or something ridiculous. "I think I might surprise you with just how-"

"Absolutely not. There will be _no_ multiple orgasms from you whatsoever. If multiple orgasms _even exist_ for a woman, that is..."

"Let's make it a science experiment of some sort," Red says eagerly, after a beat. "Let's put pen to paper and see if multiple orgasms_ are_ in fact real, or are rather just a myth. After all, that's what they said about the G-spot and deep throat, and we both know that they are far from myths, don't we, Lizzie?"

"Goodnight, Red," she butts in, hanging up on him.

She wonders about multiple orgasms herself all night.


End file.
